


The Seventh Swat

by ayoungrat



Series: Paraphilia [6]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Caning, M/M, Paraphilia, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Sub!Ian, Subdrop, dom!Mickey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayoungrat/pseuds/ayoungrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mastigophilia - Punishment</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Seventh Swat

Mickey was sitting at his desk in his home office, going over the month’s budget and supply needs for the brothel. He wasn’t letting on that he knew Ian was standing in the doorway. He knew the silent treatment was driving his partner crazy. Ian had forgotten their anniversary and Mickey was upset.

Ian finally knocked on the door frame gently. “Hey,” he whispered timidly.

Mickey didn’t look up. “Come here.” Ian tip toed to his master’s desk. Standing next to his chair. “Sit down,” Mickey commanded, pointing to the desk. He’d already moved the papers and such to clear a space for the redhead. Ian sat on the edge of the desk, a little nervous but sure he was in good hands. He trusted his master completely and knew his punishment would be painful but wonderful.

Mickey rested his hands flat on Ian’s thighs, looking up at his lover who sat ashamed in front of him. “Eight years. Today we’ve been together eight years. Does that mean nothing to you?”

"No, sir!" Ian leaned forward, cupping Mickey’s face into his hands. "It means everything to me." Ian took his hands away. He knew the rules. "It just… slipped my mind."

"Hmm," Mickey shrugged in a very sinisterly casual way. He stood up and pushed his chair back with his foot. He came close to his lover, murmuring in his ear, "guess I’ll have to remind you then, huh?"

Ian hung is head low and nodded. “How would you like me, master?” He said softly.

"On the desk, all fours." Mickey cleared more space on the already not crowded wooden desk.

"Yes, sir." Ian proceeded to undress as Mickey left the room to retrieve his tool of punishment. It was Ian’s favorite. Mickey had gotten it for him for his birthday and Ian was constantly begging to be smacked with it, and of course the older man was happy to indulge. It was a 24 inch acrylic straight cane tipped with a black then red accent; specifically made for this kind of thing. It was thinner for a sharper, stinging feeling whereas their thicker ones were more for a stronger thud.

Ian’s face grew undoubtably excited when he saw the cane as Mickey walked back into the office. “Head down,” Mickey said calmly, pushing a hand on the back of Ian’s head. He set the cane onto the dip of the backs of the redhead’s knees. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and began rubbing Ian’s back. He lightly kissed his ribcage, a symbol that Mickey wasn’t really all that mad but this was just how they were playing today.

The pimp smoothed his hands over the lines Ian already had on his ass cheeks from two days ago when he was being rewarded for making Mickey a surprise stack of banana pancakes. Four welts, one for every mouth watering pancake he ate.

"What do ya think? One for every year we’ve been together?" The question was rhetorical; Mickey was going to do whatever he pleased and Ian was going to accept it.

"Yes, sir." Ian braced himself as he felt Mickey lift the cane from his legs.

"You’re gonna count," Mickey instructed as he reared back the object. Then, the only sound in the room was a sharp snapping noise against Ian’s bare, ghostly skin. Ian choked on a moan at the burning feel of being whipped by the hard rod. He relished in the throbbing of the red welt rising up on his pale flesh. "I said count."

"One, sir," Ian said, trying not to overexcite himself. Mickey kept a hand flat on his lower back as he pulled back and gave him an equally sharp swat across his ass. "Ugh… two." The third whip was delivered directly over another welt from the other day and it made him jump forward in more pain than he’d expected. He took a deep breath. "Three." Mickey moved lower and swats four and five were snapped across the backs of Ian’s thighs.

Each smack was more painful than the last and Ian wasn’t sure if he was liking it. No. He loved it, but he also felt like shit for forgetting their anniversary and it made him only able to focus on the pain than both it and the pleasure. He felt like he didn’t deserve to feel good. His heart starting pounding fast with guilt and his breath became shallow even when Mickey wasn’t whipping him.

Mickey snapped the seventh swat into Ian’s ass and the redhead couldn’t take it anymore. “Christmas!” He shouted, shutting his eyes.

Mickey took his hands away and set the cane down on the floor. “Ian,” he said softly, trying to calm his partner, rubbing his back.

"No, no, no! I didn’t mean it, sir. Keep going," Ian panted, becoming hysterical.

"Ian, Ian, it’s okay-"

"No!" Ian rose to kneel on the desk, starting to cry. "I deserve this."

"Hey, hey, look at me. Ian, you’re dropping." He was referring to sub drop, common in many BDSM couples; the sub becoming overwhelmed by what’s happening and being unsure if it should be continued.

"I’m sorry I forgot about today," Ian sobbed, covering his face. "Work’s just been crazy and I… I…"

"Shh, c’mere," Mickey said, bringing Ian in for a hug. Ian sobbed into his master’s chest as the older man held him. "It’s okay, it’s okay… I got you," Mickey assured, pulling in the chair with him so he could cradle the redhead in his arms. Ian cried into the crook of Mickey’s neck and the pimp stroked his hair and held him by the hip to keep him on the seat. Ian was bigger than Mickey but like this, the redhead might as well have been the size of a mouse. "I’m here, baby. It’s okay. We’re done."

"I’m sorry," Ian repeated, soaking Mickey’s shirt with his tears as he started to settle himself.

"Here," Mickey pushed on Ian’s back to get him to stand up and held his hand as he led him out of the room.

Ian sat between Mickey’s spread bent legs in the bathtub as the older boy massaged his wet scalp. Ian reached for the large mug of hot chocolate Mickey had made for him on the flat edge of the tub and sipped it twice before setting it back down. He lowered himself to lay his back against his master’s stomach, sighing from the warm water soothing the welts on his skin. His head rested on Mickey’s chest and the pimp kissed his hair as his fingertips danced across the redhead’s torso. No need for words or apologies, just a comfortable silence between two people in love.

Mickey dried Ian off afterward and led him to there bed where they kissed and petted for what felt like centuries before Ian fell asleep in his master’s loving arms.

**Author's Note:**

> requested by second-rate-handjobs on tumblr.


End file.
